


Have You Ever Smelled Fudge When There Is No Fudge?

by Haurvatat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU of an AU, M/M, Real Men Wear Tights, SHIT GETS WEIRD, trickster!RMWT AU, we've hit some serious rock bottom ladies and gents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haurvatat/pseuds/Haurvatat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fighting guys with guns was hard enough, but fighting an invisible gas that causes people to enter a deliriously happy homocidal state of being is even harder.  For once, John's going to discover what it's like to have the air as an enemy.</p><p>((Basically a bunch of scenes from a never-going-to-happen sidestory of Real Men Wear Tights.  I don't think I have it in me to write a full-blown fic out of this.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have You Ever Smelled Fudge When There Is No Fudge?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Real Men Wear Tights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/469179) by [Bananaramses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananaramses/pseuds/Bananaramses), [SergeantMeow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SergeantMeow/pseuds/SergeantMeow). 



John was antsy as all hell. The Midnight Crew was gone, properly defeated. It had cost him a broken bone or two, some burns, a good chunk of his left eardrum, and a number of bruises that required scientific notation to be properly expressed, but it was done. The release of the pent-up stress at the end of it all had somehow given way to a high fever. Stumbling around the house dizzily the morning after had convinced them both that he wasn't ready for school just yet. His dad had been adamant: stay in bed until the fever went down and stayed down.

 

Technically, the fever was still there, but nowhere close to what it had been the first two days. It was hovering closer to the 99° mark, which even Dad had to agree was negligible.

 

It was Thursday. Yeah, technically his father had sent the school a doctor's notice that John would be out for the remainder of the week, but there was nothing holding him to that. John pulled his shirt on carefully over his bruised and battered body, taking care to avoid jostling his left shoulder too much. He grabbed some liquid concealer and powder finish. He might still be wearing long sleeves, but some bruises were on his face and neck. People weren't likely to overlook injuries like those, especially when coupled with the sling. The last thing the Egbert family needed was Social Services paying an unnecessary visit.

 

Plus, he really wanted to see Karkat. It felt like it had been forever. They texted almost constantly (not including a very shouty phone call that happened right after he'd told the troll what was going on with his arm – which may or may not have contributed to the rising deafness in the ear that _didn't_ have a perforated eardrum). Karkat had come over once or twice since, but A) John hadn't wanted to get him sick, and B) Karkat still had both school and a job to attend to. He just didn't have the free time that he used to. There was nothing for it.

 

Pulling on his backpack was an adventure. John poked his head out into the hallway, making sure the coast was clear. He padded his way to the kitchen, slowly sliding in as stealthily as he could manage, even though attempting to avoid discovery was futile and they both knew it.

 

His dad turned in his seat, the newspaper in front of him on the table. He looked John up and down, taking in the street clothes, hidden bruises, and backpack.

 

He sighed. “...If you're certain you're well enough...”

 

John beamed. “I'm certain. Besides, a little note-taking won't kill me. If I stay out any longer, I might fall behind!” It was utter bullshit – he'd done this week's homework last weekend.

 

“Heaven forbid,” Charles said, chuckling. “I'm proud of you for getting right back up and at it. You've had a rather long week.”

 

“No kidding. Sleeping for the last couple of days, though? Let me tell you, it builds up a lot of nervous energy. I've just got to get up and _do_ something,” John said.

 

“Wait 'til you're in your forties and energy isn't so easy a thing to come by anymore.”

 

John grinned and nabbed a bagel, sitting down.

 

“So... I imagine you'll be asking Karkat to give you a ride home after school today?” his father asked. That sounded like a lead-up.

 

“Hm? No. I would, normally, but on Monday some shmuck basically gunned it right into his car at a red light. It looks fine on the outside, but his suspension is shot. It's been in the shop for a while – he's probably not going to get it back until the weekend. Why?”

 

“...Oh.” Charles colored slightly. “Never you mind, then.”

 

“No, you were gonna say something. What was it? Did you need me to pick something up on the way home?” John asked.

 

Charles winced. “Well... sort of, yes. There isn't much on the grocery list, but the shopping still needs to get done and my superiors at work are... Well, a project has been getting quite a bit of attention recently and they want me to stay later than usual to go over some details. I was going to ask you if you could request Karkat make a quick pit stop en route, but if you don't have access to a vehicle, I'm certainly not going to ask you to lug all of that home. We don't want to risk you injuring yourself further.”

 

“I can do it! Without injuring myself and everything! Pretty sure the Metro's working perfectly. Union Station Market's, like, two blocks away. There's no problem, so long as you don't have me picking up anvils or anything like that,” John said.

 

“And you're sure about this?”

 

“I've got it. Don't worry about it!” John shoved the remainder of his bagel into his mouth and stood, tearing off the top sheet of the pad with a few groceries scrawled on it. He folded it a few ways and shoved it in a pocket, continuing to chew while making a break for the door. He was going to be late if he kept dawdling.

 

“Shouldn't I drop you off-?”

 

“Naw, itsh good,” he said around a mouthful of bagel, shutting the door behind him.

 

Ahh, success.

 

* * *

 

Karkat, at least, was delighted to see John.

 

“You show up, unannounced, no coffee, no explanation, and I'm expected to – what, hug you? Ugh. I take all these fucking notes for your ungrateful ass and I don't get a word or a single drop of caffeine. Wow. Feeling the love, Egbert, you feculent invalid.”

 

“Aw, I missed you too. You took notes? You are the absolute sweetest thing,” John cooed.

 

“Gonna punch you. You're going to have to take another week off from school because your face will be caved around the shape of my fist,” Karkat said. “Like an enzyme around a ligand, but with more pain and crying.”

 

“Oh! Speaking of which-”

 

“What, really?”  


“No, it doesn't have anything to do with what you just said, but that doesn't really matter. Point is, I have to pick up some stuff on my way home. Thursdays are grocery days. I need -” John pulled the list out of his pocket, looking somewhat crinkled and forlorn. “-carrots, 2% milk, grapes, and I think that says beef bouillon, but I can never tell because Dad's Is and Ls look really similar.”

 

“How are you going to carry all of that crap home?” Karkat gestured to the sling. “You're pretty busted up as it is.”

 

“Metro.”

 

“King County Metro?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Dude, their buses smell of the elderly and violently ill post-drinking-binge college students.”

 

“But they get you from point A to point B, which is... well, the _point_.”

 

“I'm not letting you aboard one of those nauseating screaming metal deathtraps alone. I've got maybe an hour between the end of school and the start of my shift.”

 

“You're coming with me?” John was delighted.

 

“Someone has to. What with this shit -” Karkat gestured again, this time to the entirety of John's body “-you might get hit by twenty-odd fucking cars and a golf cart by the time you get all the way to grocery store. Don't even get me started on the return trip.”

 

John couldn't possibly be offended. He got to spend more time with Karkat and he didn't have to lug groceries all by himself. Granted, alone, he probably would've used the wind to lighten to load a little if the strain on his collarbone got to be too much, and that was something that couldn't be done with Karkat as a witness, but still. Some part of Karkat had missed John almost as much as John missed him. He'd take what he could get.

 

The bell rang.

 

“Motherfucker! I swear to God, if you're responsible for that beady-eyed hall monitor harpy sending me to the principal's office one more time-”

 

“Yeah. Haul ass! Go go go go go!”

 

They jetted off to their respective homeroom classes. Eh. They'd have more time to chat over lunch, and John would have until then to moon over the idea of going on a little outing – his brain kept throwing the word “date” around even though that was literally the furthest thing from what they were really doing – with Karkat.

 

Jesus, he needed to figure out what the hell was going on with his hormones. Being in love with two people at once was definitely pushing it, and John was determined to keep his mouth shut until he understood just what it was he needed to say in the first place. On both ends.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, you probably could have handled this on your own,” Karkat conceded.

 

They'd checked out of the supermarket, groceries in tow. They'd both stared longingly at the deli counter (and the chip aisle, but that was another story) before John reminded them both that his dad would be checking the receipt to see how much he would need to reimburse them. Getting away with it would be difficult unless they went through the line twice. Judging from how packed the store was and how few registers were open, it just wasn't an option. Besides, they still needed to make sure Karkat was back in time for his shift.

 

Karkat noticed John checking his watch. “Calm your shit. We've got plenty of time. Even if we miss the bus, I've got a lot of sick leave and vacation time that I've never bothered using. They're not going to do a triple fouette off the fucking handle if I show up a tiny bit late. Well, most of them. I swear Eddie? The sweating problem assistant manager guy? Yeah, pretty sure he's neurotic. Not touching that. Meghan likes me, though. Pretty sure she'd let me get away with anything, especially if it pisses off Eddie.”

 

“No one likes Eddie?”

 

“Everyone hopes Eddie trips and lands face-first in the deep fryer.”

 

“No one likes Eddie, then.”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

They were out the door and on the street. Thankfully, the crosswalk was clear when they made a dash for it. John winced a little, but did his best to hide it. His various injuries were starting to make themselves known. He'd just have to suck it up and keep Karkat from figuring out that there was a little more to it than a poorly-placed smear of conditioner on the ground of the pool.

 

“You doing okay?”

 

Shit. Less stealthy than he'd been going for, obviously. Still, either John was becoming a terrible liar or Karkat was getting more observant, because hiding things from him was getting progressively more difficult. “Yeah, I'm good.”

 

“We'd better get you on a bus.” Karkat checked the second cross-street for oncoming cars. “Come on.”

 

“I'm not dying, man. Just a little sore is all.”

 

“Mm-hm. And from you, that's like, what – an 8 on the pain scale?”

 

John spluttered. “I'm-!”

 

“-A lying liar who lies. That's nice. Gimme that.” Karkat swiped the bag with the carrots and bouillion in it.

 

“I could handle it just fine on my own,” John said.

 

“Can't seem to handle shutting up, though. And here we are,” Karkat said.

 

John still couldn't fathom why a Metro station – a glorified indoor bus station, really – needed such a high, vaulted ceiling. It looked really cool, yes, but it also reflected back sound, making the echoes of every single footstep resound uncomfortably loudly. Well, loudly in one ear, at least.

 

A few buses were lined up, boarding passengers for a minute or so until they continued on their respective routes.

 

“...I'm not seeing ours,” John muttered.

 

Karkat shifted the grocery bags to his other hand and checked his wristwatch. “Eh, we're early. Give it five minutes and it should be here. Want to park it?”

 

John looked at the benches lining the hall. “I don't know when those were last cleaned, I don't know what's been there, and I'm not sure I want to know either one.”

 

“...Well, you're not wrong,” Karkat said. “But shit, if your shoulder's bothering you, I can switch some of this stuff, consolidate bags. Get you some nice sterile plastic to perch on, Your Royal Highness.”

 

John snorted. “I'm good. You might want to set that stuff down. We might have to wait more than five minutes if they're held up.”

 

They leaned their backs against one of the pillars. Glorified bus station or not, it still had central heating – a blessing in the late winter months. If John's fingers were starting to stiffen in the cold, Karkat must be doing even worse. John glanced down at the troll boy's hands.

 

That... was awfully bizarre. They weren't splotchy and red with the cold like John's were. Even if their blood colors were different, John would have expected some discoloration of the skin as blood vessels spasmed in the cold and circulation in the fingertips decreased. But no, his were perfectly fine, and from the way Karkat didn't appear to notice them at all, they weren't stiff. Weird. Maybe troll blood worked differently when exposed to colder temperatures? John had heard that about seadwellers, given that they would have to deal with the high heat capacity of ocean environments, but never about rustbloods like Karkat. Maybe he just hadn't been paying much attention in Biology that day.

 

People were beginning to pile in. It was towards the end of the typical workday, and office workers were headed home for the night. Others were drawn to the area's nightlife, full of museums and decent specialty restaurants. John could vaguely remember seeing about a dozen various Chinese and Sushi places just in the line of sight along that two-block stretch they'd walked. A bus had pulled in, but not theirs. Probably the next one, judging by the giant wall clock in the station.

 

John glanced at Karkat. “Kar? Hey man, what's wrong?”

 

Karkat's nose was turned up, his face scrunched into what was admittedly a normal scowl. This time, though, confusion was in his eyes.

 

“I... I don't know. Something kinda smells weird. Sweet. Like, sickly sweet. Gas leaks smell like rotten eggs and sulfur, right?”

 

“Yeah. You think there's some kind of gas?”

 

“Places like this don't smell sweet, dork lord. They smell like ozone, gasoline, tarmac, and day-old vomit. Or, if you're lucky, cleaning fluid,” Karkat snapped.

 

“I'm pretty sure we can just tell one of the people who work here. They'll figure out where it's coming from. We're going to be out of here in a few minutes anyway,” John said. He kept his tone light, but began spreading his awareness throughout the station. If there was an influx of gas coming from somewhere, he'd find it from the displacement of the wind. The vents seemed clean of anything that wasn't regular heating. Well, “clean”. There was still a large amount of dust and such, but John figured that dust would be Karkat's least concern.

 

There.

 

From the manhole cover in the lane the buses were idling over. The gas was rising lazily from below, spreading throughout the station. It was still a fair ways away from where they were standing. Maybe it was harmless?

 

A woman standing much closer let out a strange noise.

 

Then she did it again. Was she... laughing?

 

Laughing gas? Nitrous oxide did produce a slightly sweet taste – at least according to John's senses whenever he'd had dental work done. What the hell was it doing down in the sewers?

 

The woman was howling with laughter, occasionally breaking halfway into song before she interrupted herself with her own giggles. The people around her were beginning to back away.

 

An older troll approached her, gently tapping her shoulder. “Ma'am? Are you quite all right?” he asked.

 

“I'm wonderful!” she bellowed. “I'm just so very wonderful today. I love everyone. Be happy with me!”

 

“I... I'm sorry?”

 

“Oh, never be sorry! Not for being happy, sweetheart. It's the best thing there is! Oooh!” she cooed, clearly delighted with something. “Your eyes! What a beautiful shade of green! Are you an olive blood, by any chance?”

 

The troll looked awfully uncomfortable. “Uh... yes. Thank you for the com-”

 

She grabbed him by the horns and slammed his face into the pavement. Over and over.

 

John was frozen in place. _What the ever-loving fuck -?_

 

The first scream shattered the trance.

 

Karkat dove in. “Jesus Christ! The fuck are you doing, lady?! Let go of -”

 

“But look at the pretty colors!” she protested, staring lovingly at the blood on the ground. Karkat beat at her hand until she eventually relinquished the man's horn. He was twitching and clutching at his face, but thankfully conscious and alive.

 

“You!” John said, pointing directly at another man who was watching on with a horrified expression. He started, then turned to stare at John like he was an alien. “Call 911. Tell them there's some kind of suspicious gas leak in here, too.”

 

“Gas?”

 

“Oh my God, gas?!”

 

“What if this is some kind of terrorist thing-?”

 

Okay. So maybe mentioning the gas was the wrong thing to do.

 

Before any of them knew it, though, someone else had starting grinning and giggling to themselves. And another. Those who remained unaffected backed away in horror, many turning to run away as quickly as they could. Some were piling into buses, screaming at the drivers to close the doors and drive away.

 

“Sir, are you okay? Hold this to your head and keep pressure. It should keep you conscious until the paramedics get here,” John said, pulling a few paper towels out of his backpack. Generally, they came in handy for impromptu napkins during lunch, but they'd just have to do for now.

 

“Everyone, stay calm!” Karkat yelled, his voice booming even more than usual due to the building's acoustics. “Calm your various and sundry tits!”

 

“Put some kind of cloth over your nose and mouth until you get outside, then take deep, slow breaths. If you smell something sweet, don't breathe it in!” John yelled. Those who were still closeby, presumably either too frozen to move much or companions of the afflicted individuals, did so shakily.

 

John crouched by Karkat, who was still keeping a firm grip on the first woman, who had begun singing songs from Blue's Clues to herself. “What the hell is going on?” he whispered.

 

“Do I look like I fucking know? I'm just trying to keep a riot from happening. I am a simple guy with simple wants, and being trampled by fucknugget civilian sheep is not one of them,” Karkat said.

 

“The cops should be on the way. Oh, and another thing...”

 

“Jesus Christ, what now?”

 

“You might want to call in to work. I get the feeling we're not leaving when our bus arrives.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The baes mentioned in an ask on the RMWT blog that they'd had vague ideas of a weaponized gas that induced something similar to the Trickster state in Homestuck canon. This happened. I should be doing work right now. Or studying for my GREs, or PChem, or Biochem, or Immunology, or... hey, you know what I haven't done in a while? Rewatched every episode of everything ever. Responsibilities? What responsibilities? AHAHAHAahahHAHAHaaaaa... ha... yeah.
> 
> God have mercy on my soul.


End file.
